Come Easy, Go Easy Part 12

"What are you doing in here, Jack?" he asked. There was real agony in his voice. It cut into me like the thong of a whip. "How you got an explanation?"

"Yes. I've got an explanation. First, I'm not Jack Patmore: that's not my name. I'm Chet Carson. I escaped from Farnworth jail six weeks ago."

I saw his heavy face tighten. Moving slowly, he went over to the settee and sat down.

"I read about that. So you're Carson . . ."

"Yes. She saw a photograph of me in an old paper that came in the groceries box on Tuesday. She recognised me. She said if I didn't open the safe so she could steal your money she would give me to the police."

"You liar!" Lola screamed. "Carl! Don't listen to him! He's lying! He's trying to save his rotten skin! I'm going to call the police!"

Jenson turned slowly and stared at her.

"I'll call the police when I want them. You keep out of this."

"He's lying, I tell you! You don't believe him, do you?"

"Will you be quiet!"

She leaned against the wall. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s under the white overall heaved as she tried to steady her breathing.

To me, he said, "What else, Jack? Or isn't there anything else?"

"I planned to take the money," I said. "I was going to clip her on the jaw and take the money to Tropica Springs. I was going to send it back to you with a letter telling you the truth. That way you would believe me and save yourself a lot of grief in the future."

He stared fixedly at me for fully five seconds. I stared right back at him. Then he turned slowly and stared at Lola. She flinched from his probing eyes.

"You say he is lying, Lola?"

"Of course he's lying!"

"Then look at me."

But she couldn't. She tried, but every time her eyes met his, her eyes s.h.i.+fted. She just couldn't take that probing, steady stare.

Slowly he got to his feet. Somehow he seemed now older and his great shoulders sagged.

"Go to bed, Lola. I'll talk about this tomorrow. Never mind the night s.h.i.+ft. I'll handle it. Go to bed."

"What's going to happen to him?" she demanded. "I'm going to call the police!"

He crossed the room and took her arms in his great hands and gave her a hard little shake.

"Go to bed! No one is calling the police!"

He pushed her out of the room, then he turned and went over to the settee and sat down.

I still stood by the open safe.

"I don't expect you to believe me," I said. "I just couldn't face going back to Farnworth so I was a sucker for her blackmail."

"Funny how these things work out, isn't it?" he said in a low, flat voice. "The President of the Legion had a heart attack just before he left for the meeting. When I got there, the meeting was cancelled. Because a guy has a heart attack, another guy finds out he's married a tramp."

I stiffened.

"You mean you believe me? You don't think I'm lying?"

He looked at me, his hands rubbing his knees.

"I told you: I don't make mistakes about men, Jack, but it seems I do about women."

I drew in a long, deep breath.

"Thanks," I said. "You would have got the money back. There was no other way to save it."

He looked at the open safe and shrugged his shoulders.

"You'll have to go, Jack. You won't be safe here now. She'll give you away. You can be sure of that."

"Yes."

"I'll give you a stake and you can take the station wagon. Any idea where you'll go?"

"New York. I can get lost there."

"I'm going to give you thirty thousand bucks," Jenson said "With that, you'll be able to start up in business."

I gaped at him.

"Oh, no! I couldn't take as much as that, Mr. Jenson. Don't think I'm not grateful, but I just couldn't take it."

"You can and you will," he said, looking directly at me. "I won't be going on this world trip alone. I don't need the money now, and you do. I've never met a guy I like better than you, Jack. You're going to take it." He looked away as he went on, "I'll miss you."

Then I saw her.

She had been pretty quick, for she had changed from her overall to her green dress. Her face was white and her eyes glittered. In her right hand she held a .45 revolver, and she was pointing it at us.

chapter seven.

I.

For some seconds there was no sound in the room except the ticking of the clock on the overmantel and Lola's quick, sharp breathing.

Jenson was staring at her and at the gun as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Why, Lola . . ."

"Don't move!" Her voice was harsh. "I'm taking the money! He's not having a nickel of it!"

"Lola! Have you gone crazy? Put that gun down! It's loaded!"

"Don't move and listen to me. I've had enough of this life. I've had enough of you and your convict pal! I'm going, and I'm taking that money. Don't either of you imagine you can stop me."

Jenson's face hardened.

"You should be ashamed of yourselfa"talking that way. That money was for both of us. I've slaved thirty-five years to save it and you're not walking off with it now. Put that gun down, and stop acting like a crazy fool!"

"I'm taking it! If you try to stop me I'll tell the police you have been sheltering this jailbird, and I'll tell them you haven't paid tax on that money! Now get out of my way or you'll be sorry!"

Jenson, his face suddenly red with anger, got to his feet.

I still stood by the open safe. It made me nervous to see the way she was waving the gun about as she talked.

"It's time you were taught a lesson, young woman," Jenson said. "I've been too soft with you. What you want is a good hiding, and that's what you are going to get!"

"Watch it!" I said sharply. I gave the safe door a hard shove with my knee. It swung to with a clang.

Lola, her face tightening with frustrated rage, looked towards me. She knew enough about that safe to realise it had automatically locked as the door slammed shut.

Jenson had almost reached her when the .45 went off with a bang that rattled the windows.

I looked with horror at Jenson.

He stood motionless for a brief moment, then his great body of muscle and flesh collapsed like a felled tree. It went down slowly and ponderously, smas.h.i.+ng the back off a chair, sweeping aside the table and shaking the bungalow as it finally hit the floor.

Lola screamed and dropped the gun. She hid her face in her hands, turning her back.

Shaking, I knelt beside Jenson. Blood made a small red patch on his left side. It had been an unlucky shot. The soft-nosed .45 slug had killed him instantly.

I couldn't believe it. I put my hand on his arm, staring at him.

The words jerked out of me: "You've killed him!"

She gave a shuddering groan and ran blindly out of the room.

I heard her bedroom door slam shut.

I knelt there, staring down at Jenson, not knowing what to do. I didn't dare call the police. Suppose she told them I had killed Jenson? She might do it to save her own skin. She might tell them who I was, and they wouldn't need any further proof once they knew I was the escaped convict from Farnworth.

Then I heard the sudden sound of a car pulling up and the impatient blast from its horn.

The blind in the sitting room wasn't drawn. Whoever it was outside could see the light. If I didn't get out to them fast they might come over and look in: if they did, they would see Jenson dead on the floor.

As I started for the door, my foot kicked against the .45. I picked it up and shoved it into my hip pocket. I jerked open the front door and started across to the pumps.

There was a big Chrysler waiting: a deluxe job with a customs built body. A blonde woman sat in the front pa.s.senger seat. The driver, a thickset, elderly man, was getting out of the car.

"Fill her up," he said as I reached him, "and how about some food?"

I was in a daze. I scarcely heard what he said. I began automatically to fill the tank.

"Hey! Didn't you hear me?" the man said, raising his voice. "We want something to eat!"

"Sorrya"the lunch room's closed."

I wanted to get rid of these two, but the man was one of those wealthy, arrogant big wheels you couldn't brush off.

"Then d.a.m.n well open it!" he said. "We're hungry. It's your business to provide food."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the lunch room's closed," I said, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g on the cap of the tank.

"Do you own this joint?"

"No."

"Then where's the boss? I'll talk him into opening your G.o.dd.a.m.n lunch room!"

"Harry, dear . . ." the blonde woman began nervously.

He turned on her.

"You keep out of this! I'll handle it. I'll talk to the top man. I never waste my time talking to hired hands."

To my alarm, he began to walk off towards the bungalow.

"Okay, okay," I said, jumping to his side. "I'll fix you something. The boss is asleep."

He paused to glare at me. "I've a mind to report you."

"I'll fix you something," I said, and leaving him, I opened up the lunch room and turned on the lights.

I heard him bellow at his wife, "Well, come on! Don't sit there! You're hungry, aren't you?"

They followed me into the lunch room and sat down at one of the tables.

"What have you got?" the man barked at me.